


Too Comfortable

by quicksparrows



Series: For Emmy – Frederick x Rosella [7]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:23:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2831378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksparrows/pseuds/quicksparrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little bit of sweet affection as Frederick falls asleep and Robin contemplates some things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Comfortable

Frederick winds a lock of Rosella's long pink hair around his finger, once, twice, then three times, and he passes his thumb over it in a soft, stroking gesture. Rosella just smiles, stretched out on his chest so that her hair falls all around her face, all around him. He loves her hair, loves to touch it, to play with it, to stroke it, and she obliges him patiently. Who wouldn't, with a husband who will even wash her hair for her?

"You're sleepy," Rosella says, amused. 

Frederick's eyes are half-lidded, his smile passive. He continues to twirl the lock of her hair.

"I'm much too comfortable like this, my lady," he says, and she feels the thrum of his voice through his chest. He lets go to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"I didn't know there was such a thing as 'too' comfortable."

"I might fall asleep and stay there, and then who will stoke the fires?" Frederick says, but he's already mumbling from sleepiness. Dutiful, even in a stupor.

"You've stoked enough of mine tonight," Rosella teases, gently, but he's drifting off to sleep. She presses a kiss to his temple and then carefully climbs off of him, careful not to touch the wet spot as she crosses the bed to the floor.

And across the floor, where she crouches at the washbasin to clean up, she glances back to her sleeping husband and admires the way he sleeps like a log. He's like that every night, stretched from a long day of servitude to his lord and his companions and yet never sleeps until he's satisfied his wife.

Rosella wonders if she ever had a husband like him in her previous life, somewhere in the void where her memories should be. If she did, did they share sly looks across the campfire at nights? Did he protect her from all harm on the battlefield to complement her skills as the tactician? Did they plan a life together?

Did they plan a child together –– a future?

"Love," Frederick murmurs, a lovely little rumble that protests her absence. Rosella straightens her night robes and returns to his side, crawling into his waiting arms.

No, she thinks.

There never could be anyone like Frederick.


End file.
